


Throwing Away Toys

by Deonara2012



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deonara2012/pseuds/Deonara2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a matter of what to do with a toy you don't want any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throwing Away Toys

**Author's Note:**

> POSSIBLE TRIGGERS: cutting, attempted suicide. Please take care in reading this.

Yesung looked up when the door opened, eyes dropping back to the knife in his hand when he recognized HeeChul. He found the thrum of his pulse at his wrist under his finger tips, and a slight smile curved his lips. Finally.

“What are you doing here?” HeeChul asked. He almost sounded… sorry?

“Oh,” Yesung said, shifting the knife back to his left hand. “Nothing. Just… relaxing.”

HeeChul snorted. “In the bathroom?”

“Sure.” Yesung leaned back against the wall. “Best place not to make a mess.” He barely registered the pain when the knife sliced his skin, right over his pulse point and up his arm – good and sharp. Like he’d thought, Geng always had kept his knives well.

“A mess?” HeeChul came closer, then swore, snatching a towel from the wall and pressing it to his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t this what you do with toys when you’re done with them?” Yesung asked, without pulling away. “Throw them away?” He reached up, finding the pulse point at his throat.

“What about that stupid bunny thing of SungMin’s? He’d never throw that away.”

Yesung nearly smiled at the desperation in HeeChul’s voice. “No,” he said, his pulse thrumming under his fingertips again. “But he loves that thing. Ask him what he does about the toys he doesn’t love.”

HeeChul batted the knife out of his hand, and it skittered across the floor, out of his reach. “Hey! Someone call an ambulance!” he shouted.

“You don’t have to do that,” Yesung said, eyes on his now empty hand, resting on his leg. “No reason to, you know.”

“Shut up,” HeeChul snarled, and then looked up. “Emergency services,” he snapped, and Yesung found it almost funny that SungMin stood in the door.

“You should ask him,” he said, gesturing listlessly at the younger man, who talked furiously on the phone. “I bet he tells you he throws them away.”

His head started to feel light, and he closed his eyes to keep from getting dizzy when the room started to spin.

Something slapped him across the face. “Don’t.”

SungMin, again. What was this? “What do you do with the toys you don’t want,” Yesung asked, forcing his eyes open.

“What?”

“Don’t answer that,” HeeChul snapped, sounding almost frightened. Yesung would have laughed, if he hadn’t lost that ability weeks ago.

“Your toys. The ones you don’t play with any more. What do you do with them?”

SungMin hesitated.

“I’m serious,” HeeChul said, desperate now. “Don’t answer him.”

“Why does he want to know?”

“I don’t know,” HeeChul said, angry.

“Liar,” Yesung mumbled. “Everyone knows that you throw away toys when you’re done playing with them. Right?”

SungMin didn’t get a chance to answer; someone pulled him out of the doorway, and then it filled with people Yesung didn’t know.

As long as they weren’t rabid fangirls, he didn’t care.

He watched, detached, as they wrapped another towel on top of the one HeeChul had pressed to his arm, one of the men pressing almost painfully on his wrist, then they pulled him to his feet. “This really isn’t that necessary,” he murmured, leaning on one man. “Just find a huge dumpster.”

The man turned to look at HeeChul and SungMin. “What is he talking about?”

HeeChul waved him away. “Nothing. Ignore him.”

Yesung let out a sound far too close to a sob. “Yes,” he murmured. “Ignore me.”

Everything went an odd… grayish, as if he were in a black and white movie. Only the sharp prick in his arm stood out during the ride to the hospital; even the pressure on his arm faded to a gray feeling. Once inside, the gray lightened to white, just by benefit of the surroundings, and then after a short time and another sharp prick in his arm, it all went black.

 

Yesung’s arm ached, and he tried to move it, to get it into a more comfortable position. He didn’t try long, giving up soon after. He wasn’t actually supposed to hurt – although it’s possible he would just because he’d gone to hell. His mother told him that often enough.

Considering he’d lived there the last few months, wherever he was could only be an improvement.

But no, he discovered as he opened his eyes, he lay in a hospital bed, wrists in restraints near his head. So he just closed his eyes again, lethargic… no. Apathetic.

He’d been under suicide watch before.

The door opened, letting in a group he didn’t know if he wanted to see. Except his mother. She sailed in, furious, his father and younger brother behind her, HeeChul and SungMin bringing up the rear.

“I can’t believe you would do this,” his mother started, hands on hips, eyes bright. “You know better than this. What if you’d succeeded? Where would you be? Trapped, forever, unable to get out, no matter how much you wanted….”

“Kim-puin, I don’t….” HeeChul started.

“Shut up,” Yesung snarled, not sure where the energy came from. But it took all he had, and he closed his eyes. Why had HeeChul come anyway? He’d said….

His mother’s tirade continued, words he’d heard many times before, but this time was different.

“Are you even listening to me?” she demanded, and he opened his eyes.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“What did I say?”

He looked at her without a smile. “That you love me. That you are worried for my soul. That you don’t want to lose me.” It wasn’t enough, but he’d heard the words as clearly as if she’d actually said them. It was nice to hear it from someone.

She stared at him, and then smiled, reaching to brush his hair from his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Please, JongWoon. You need to try to get better.”

Yesung closed his eyes, tired. “I will try.”

With stern words, she cleared the room, and then settled next to him. “That HeeChul is… stubborn.”

Yesung hummed his agreement, trying very hard not to think about that.

He grew to appreciate her presence more and more, as one by one the others tried to come in. She was polite as she could be, but more than once she got nasty with HeeChul as he kept trying to enter the room. They stood at the door, in a heated discussion, when he fell asleep again.

 

When he woke up, Siwon sat by his bed, of all people. Yesung blinked at him, startled. “What….”

Siwon blushed. “Your mother banned everyone from the room, and then noticed I had my bible. She suggested I read to you, if you woke up, if that’s okay? She had to go home and get something.”

Yesung snorted softly. “Psalms?” he asked after a moment.

It did not surprise him when Siwon found the book in seconds, and began reading, his voice soothing. Yesung closed his eyes and let the familiar words, in a familiar voice, wash over him. It eased something in him, and he let it go, letting his breath out in a soft, long sigh.

“What happened?”

Same tone, but Siwon had stopped reading. Yesung opened his eyes, looking at the younger man. “What?” he asked softly.

“What happened?”

Yesung looked away from him. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

After a moment of silence, Siwon started reading again.

It lulled him, much like listening to KyuHyun sing could, and he felt himself drift, not to sleep, but almost a trance that healed him. When Siwon stopped this time, it almost hurt, and he half-opened dull eyes to see HeeChul – again – before closing them.

“What are you doing here, hyung?” Siwon asked, with no animosity in his voice.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Siwon said. “You’ve been here longer than I have.”

“They don’t tell me anything!” HeeChul almost sounded like a spoiled child.

“They don’t tell any of us anything,” Siwon countered. “Why should they tell you something? Do you know why he did this?”

The silence became oppressive. “No,” HeeChul said, sullen, and Siwon sucked in his breath.

“No?” he repeated.

“No.”

Siwon remained quiet for a while. “You’re lying, hyung.”

Seconds later, the door closed, and Siwon started to read. Yesung let himself drift again, relishing the floating sensation, and wished – since such a wish would never be expressed – that he might keep floating away, and never come back.

 

SungMin could get like a dog worrying a bone – although HeeChul hated that analogy, as it meant he was the bone – and add Siwon into the mix, they’d never leave him alone. He curled deeper into Jay’s arms, trying to hide from the world. “You okay?” his boyfriend asked.

HeeChul sighed. “Yes.”

Jay squeezed him. “You do realize you can’t lie, right?”

HeeChul huffed and pulled away. “I’m starting to get that, yes,” he said, frustrated. “Why do you think I’m lying?”

Jay looked at him. “Because your dongsaeng tried to commit suicide. SM can’t hide that, not for long.”

“I don’t think they’re trying,” HeeChul said. “They can’t deny the problem and still get him the help he needs.”

Jay reached and pulled him close again; HeeChul didn’t resist. “You think he needs help?”

HeeChul sighed. “He tried to commit suicide,” he murmured. “Yes, he does.”

“Do you have any idea why he’d do something like that?”

“I don’t understand him,” HeeChul said after a moment, because that wasn’t a lie.

The reprieve with Jay didn’t last near long enough. As soon as he got home, SungMin pounced (dog with bone again), dragging him into his room where Siwon waited.

“What happened,” SungMin demanded, arms folded over his chest, standing against the door. He should have looked ridiculous in that pink shirt, but he didn’t. “And don’t try to tell me you don’t know. You knew why he asked me those questions. You were desperate that I not answer.”

HeeChul glanced at Siwon, who merely raised an eyebrow at him. “I want to know why you lied.”

HeeChul glared at both of them. “Why does it matter?”

SungMin stared at him. “Why does it matter? You were there when he slit his wrist! You stopped him from bleeding to death, and you want….” He stopped, eyes narrowed. “What did he mean?”

Surprised by the change of topic, HeeChul stared at him. “What?”

“He asked me what I did with the toys I no longer played with. Why would he ask that?”

HeeChul pressed his lips together. “He wanted to be right, okay? If you’d said yes, he might have started fighting me, and it was close enough as it was.”

“Right about what?” Siwon asked.

“That you throw toys away when you’re done with them,” HeeChul ground out, without looking at either of them.

SungMin caught on first. “Jay.”

Siwon stared at him. “What?”

SungMin moved forward, fingers digging into HeeChul’s chin to make him look up. “You finally got a boyfriend,” he said, softly, and HeeChul averted his eyes. “And you throw your toys away when you’re done with them.” He let HeeChul go and backed away, crashing into the door. With an urgency HeeChul didn’t understand, SungMin clawed at the door until it opened and fled, pulling it closed behind him.

HeeChul turned to look at Siwon, who looked back at him, then got up and walked to the door. “I think I’ll make sure he’s okay.” He didn’t look at HeeChul as he left.

 

Yesung woke sometime later to music, guitar and vocals, both very familiar. Slowly, he looked at SungMin, who smiled and set his guitar down. “How are you feeling?”

Yesung shrugged. “It’s boring, actually, with nothing to do but think. Which is what I really don’t want to do.”

SungMin nodded. “You sound better. I’m glad.”

Yesung looked away. “Are they covering it up?”

“No.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “I don’t know whether to be glad or not.”

“Yes,” SungMin said, and Yesung heard him get up. “Because then you don’t have to lie to get help.” Fingertips brushed lightly across the inside of his uninjured arm.

“I don’t need help.”

“No?” SungMin asked. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, JongWoon-hyung. But you are. And under suicide watch, which means they think you might do it again.” He leaned closer. “I guess they have cause to think that.”

Yesung looked at him. “What?”

SungMin’s fingers drifted across an old scar. “You’ve done this at least one other time,” he murmured.

Yesung looked away again. “Yes.”

After a minute, SungMin sat down again, and picked up his guitar. “Siwon said you liked having him read to you. Do you mind if I sing?”

“Go ahead,” Yesung said, and let himself drift again, listening to the younger man. He didn’t think about what SungMin had said.

At least not right then. He couldn’t have even said why it kept coming to mind, as the doctor, his mother, and the manager all mentioned him getting some kind of help. He finally agreed, more because he wanted out of the hospital – but not back to the dorm. Everyone agreed he should go home.

He was pretty sure they didn’t ask the rest of the group, or the consensus might have been the opposite.

But getting lost in 13 people was hard enough when he felt… better. Right now… he might try it again; in the chaos, he might succeed. And the thought scared him, which made him think that maybe, they were all right.

 

Yesung returned to the dorms three months later, slipping in when the rest of the group had a schedule to keep. He thought it’d be better that way, a chance to ease in, although he knew they’d told LeeTeuk when he’d return. He’d nearly unpacked when someone knocked on his door and pushed it open. He straightened, smiling at LeeTeuk as the older man shut the door behind him.

“How are you?”

Yesung shrugged. “I’m much better, thank you.” It took all his concentration not to rub at his latest scar. “They wouldn’t tell me what the schedule is, so I guess… you’ll have to tell me.”

LeeTeuk moved closer, reaching almost tentatively to hug him, and Yesung leaned into it, hugging him as well. “They weren’t sure you’d be back at all, until last week,” LeeTeuk said, and Yesung could hear his tears in his voice. “I’m really glad you came back.”

Yesung smiled. “I’m glad to be back,” he said, and didn’t pull away until his hyung did.

LeeTeuk laughed and brushed the tears from his eyes. “I’ll get you a copy of the schedule. Yours will be a little different; we’ve got a performance, and you have an appointment with the choreographer to learn the latest song.”

Yesung nodded. “Okay.” One day at a time, he’d learned. More than that tended to overwhelm him. Just one day at a time. “But the rest of the time?”

LeeTeuk nodded. “You’ll be with us.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d held. “Okay.”

He sank down on his bed after LeeTeuk left, just breathing, so a second knock on the door startled him, and he watched in some trepidation to see who came in next. SungMin grinned at him. “You look a lot better.”

Yesung smiled, still feeling… fragile. He did not want to face HeeChul – it was hard enough seeing SungMin. “Thank you.”

“I thought about what you asked me,” SungMin said.

“Asked you?”

“About what I did with toys I don’t play with any more.”

Yesung’s cheeks reddened. “It’s not….” He trailed off, embarrassed.

SungMin smiled. “I don’t throw them away,” he said softly. “I give them to people who want them.”

Yesung stared at him, stunned. SungMin moved closer and kissed his forehead. “I’m glad you’re back,” he murmured, and let himself out again.

The rest of them greeted him with hugs and smiles when he emerged for dinner, nervous about it, but HeeChul stayed clear, barely looking at him. Yesung didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t, keeping his own gaze to the people around him. But even that tired him, and he retreated back to his room as soon as dinner ended.

It didn’t surprise him that they didn’t know how to treat him now. He barely knew how to act, now that they’d seen what he’d tried for years to hide, to keep them – and others – from knowing. It was like… getting to know everyone again. Or something.

Even thinking about it made him tired, and he lay down on his bed. He fell asleep moments later.

“Yesung.”

Yesung woke, slowly, trying to identify the person who’d said his name, but he could see no one in the darkness. “What?” he mumbled, and hoped he hadn’t lost his mind as well as everything else.

“I’m sorry.”

Yesung sat up, confused. “HeeChul-hyung?”

“Just accept it, Yesung.”

Yesung tried to make his eyes focus. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, still unable to find HeeChul.

HeeChul snorted. “For what?”

Yesung shrugged. “For not stopping you. For not saying no.”

HeeChul moved, and Yesung started as the shadows by his closet seemed to materialize into his rather angry hyung. “You have no reason to be sorry,” he growled, leaning close to Yesung without touching him. “And I won’t do it again, no matter what happens with Jay.”

Yesung stared at him. “Promise?” he asked, sounding fragile to his own ears.

“Promise.” He whirled away and left the room, gently closing the door behind him. Yesung, after a long moment, lay down, and didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

The next day, HeeChul didn’t so obviously avoid him. And the days only got better from there as everyone settled back into the routine, stopped being so hesitant around him, and he stopped feeling quite so fragile.

Until he heard HeeChul and Jay had broken up. In spite of what HeeChul had said, Yesung withdrew to his room, keeping himself busy so it didn’t look like he hid.

 

He remained in hiding even after HeeChul went back to Jay (he’d been right, this relationship had meant more to HeeChul than any that went before), without coming close to Yesung. And still… it didn’t help, and he didn’t know why.

He knew HeeChul kept his promises. He’d proved that over and over. But he still expected a late-night visit from the older singer.

The knock on his door one afternoon made him start, and he stared at it, half afraid of who wanted to come in. For an instant he wished he’d gone somewhere they wouldn’t know where to find him, but that faded at SungMin’s cheery smile. “You vanished. Did you even eat?”

Yesung looked back at his desk, at the music under his fingertips. “Yes. I… thought it best to go.” Spending time around HeeChul still made him nervous.

He looked up when SungMin gently took his arm and tugged him to his feet, pulling him toward the bed. SungMin settled on it, sitting with his back against the wall, and then tugged Yesung to sit in front of him, leaning against him. Yesung wasn’t exactly sure why he went along with it, but relaxed as SungMin’s arms rested around his waist. “Tell me why?” he said softly.

To his surprise, Yesung did, the words spilling out messy, hopeless, like he hadn’t been able to with the people who wanted to help him. They didn’t _understand_ , they didn’t know HeeChul, and it just took too much energy he didn’t have to explain it all.

SungMin said nothing, listening in silence until he finished, then hugged him tighter. Yesung relaxed further against him, eyes closed. “I’m afraid,” he murmured.

“It’s okay to be afraid.”

Yesung nodded, unable to say anything, and then buried his face in his hands and sobbed. SungMin tightened his grip around him, reassuring, and held him until the tears tapered off, leaving him exhausted. With very little movement – and without letting him go – SungMin got them laying down on the bed. Yesung curled up against him and fell asleep.


End file.
